Calleth you cometh I
by Niveously
Summary: Donatello and Raphael meet at an asylum for mentally ill children and teenagers.
1. Chapter 1

I rapidly scanned the new environment with my eyes as I walked down the hallway with my psychiatrist and one of my contact persons. They smiled at me while they showed me around, pointed in different directions while explaining the rules around here and patted my arm to calm me down. I was practically hyperventilating and repeatedly pinched and clawed my fingers.

I had spent two nights at the emergency ward with nowhere else to go, and the doctors decided to move me to the clinic for at least three weeks. They'd reevaluate after that, they said.

Well, those three weeks scared the crap out of me.

My schedule – and I had no say in that matter – said that I would have to sit and talk to my psychiatrist every day for those three weeks. I felt the panic attack come creeping just by the thought of it. They wanted me to talk to them about my problems. They wanted me to describe my feelings about life, about non-life, about my future. They wanted me to open up to them and sort out all of my problems.

Well, the thing is, I don't have any concrete problems. There's no reason that I feel hopeless. There's no reason that I'm depressed, that I live with constant anxiety and that I self harm. There's no concrete reason. I've never been abused, never been bullied, don't have an eating disorder, don't want to kill someone, don't have a problem with, well, anything. No matter how much my psychiatrist's going to dig in my brain, she won't find anything that matter. I'm just plain miserable.

I almost bumped into my contact person. She smiled at me and opened a door, then signed for me to follow her. The door had a '4' on it, and when I walked inside, I realized that this was my room. This would be my home for the next three weeks.

There was a wooden bed with white sheets, an empty wardrobe, a window to the right and some white and blue clothes for me to borrow from the clinic. I met my eyes in the mirror and hurried to look away. I didn't want to see myself.

"There we go, Donatello. Dinner's ready in just a few minutes. Is there anything I can do for you?"

I looked at my psychiatrist and slowly shook my head in silence.

She smiled, patted my shoulder and then left with my contact person. I just stood there for a minute, staring at the pale room with a burning throat. I tried swallowing it away, but failed as a pair of tears let themselves out and down my cheeks. I hiccupped and threw my bag on the floor as I sat down on the bed, scratching my hands and hearing a buzzing inside my head that grew more intense with every heartbeat.

I didn't want to be here. I just wanted to disappear, never come back. No one would miss me; I was just a burden that always was in the way of everything. I tried sculpting myself into something that would please everyone, something that would be a great thing. But, as fucking usual, I failed. And I hated myself for that. And I was sure everyone else hated me as well. What was there not to hate?

I lost my breath and leaned forward over my knees, folding my arms around myself. The tears kept streaming down my face and I couldn't breathe. My whole being hurt and shook and I just didn't want to be here. I didn't want to live. I wished that someone would just come in and dig an axe into my stomach. It felt as if my lungs had expanded to a double size and that my ribs were in the way, as if they pushed my lungs back and made it so damn impossible to breathe normally. I wanted to dig my fingers into my stomach, grab the ribs and just rip them open. Let all this pain just flow out of me; put it somewhere where it couldn't hurt anyone.

I groaned as I fell forward onto the floor, still holding myself together with my arms, scratching my nails into my shoulder. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't breathe and everything seemed far away, as if I wouldn't find reality if I reached for it. I groaned again, hiccupping, trying desperately to breathe.

Suddenly, the door was pushed open and a man walked up to me, squatting next to me on the floor. He put a hand on my shoulder, rubbing it to get my attention.

"Donatello? It's alright, you hear me? It'll be over soon. You're having a panic attack. Try to breathe, okay?"

I couldn't focus my eyes on his face, but I heard him. How in the world was I supposed to breathe? It felt as if I was dying, for god's sake!

"You have to breathe. Here, hold my hand. We'll get through this together, okay?"

I couldn't see his damn hand and I couldn't breathe. I was dying and he asked me to breathe?

I suddenly took a deep, shaky breath.

"That's it. Keep doing that. I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere."

I felt his hand working its way in between my hand and my shoulder, and soon I was holding it for my dear life. I took another deep breath, feeling the buzzing in my head slowly disappearing. I tried focusing my eyes on something, and soon found a pair of blue, calm eyes. I practically stared into them, but I couldn't care less. It felt safe to do so, so I did it.

"There we go. Keep breathing."

I did what he said and suddenly found that it wasn't that hard to breathe anymore. The buzzing was gone and I didn't felt as if I was dying a painful death.

I felt ashamed of my behavior and quickly let go of his hand. I sat up, still with one arm over my stomach, and looked away.

"S-sorry."

I wanted to slap myself. I was blushing and I felt like crying again. Why couldn't I just control myself better? Why couldn't I just start my three weeks here with something else than a panic attack?

"Donatello?"

I looked up at the man in front of me.

"This is what you're here for getting help with. And you can't control panic attacks. No one can."

I looked down again. I couldn't take his kind words, and another pair of tears made their way out of my eyes.

"I'm s-so sorry."

The man in front of me smiled and took my hand again.

"You don't ever have to apologize for feeling. Remember that."

I looked up at him again.

Right. I should be able to control panic attacks, no matter if it was even possible or not. And I shouldn't behave like a baby the first few minutes I get here, no matter if it was okay or not. I'm disgusting and I'm worthless.

"I'm Carson, your contact person this week. I'm guessing you've already met Angelica? She's your other contact person."

I blinked and nodded as I tried to remember the names. Carson and Angelica.

"If there's anything you need, don't hesitate to ask. Alright?"

I nodded again, without taking it seriously. I wouldn't ask for help. That would just make me an even bigger pain than I already was.

"Dinner's ready. Do you feel like eating?"

I nodded once again, getting up off the floor and gluing my eyes to the floor. I followed Carson as he led the way to the kitchen. I didn't look up when we entered, but I could feel the other kids staring at me. I found an empty chair and sat down, Carson taking place next to me. It felt safe to have him there, somehow. I was glad I got him as contact person.

"Can someone pass the rice, please?"

I could hear the warm smile in Carson's voice, and it even made me smile. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to live here for a couple of weeks. Maybe Carson would make it bearable.

He grabbed the bowl of rice being passed to him, and he put it right next to my plate. I was just about to grab the spoon in the bowl when I heard loud voices outside the kitchen. The other patients weren't paying it any attention, but for me, screaming and slamming was something unusual.

Suddenly another turtle boy with a red bandana, black t-shirt and blue jeans came rushing through the corridor outside the kitchen.

"What is it that ya don't understand? I fuckin' hate ya and I don't wanna talk to ya! Leave me alone!"

His voice was rumbling but at the same time very boyish, and he scared me. The boy turned to walk into the kitchen, but was stopped by a hand and a low, calming voice, clearly trying to stop him from entering the room. He batted the hand away and pointed at the person next to him.

"Don't. Touch. Me. Got it? Imma go eat sumthin' so stop followin' me."

The turtle walked into the kitchen, sitting down at the last empty chair and grabbed some food. I couldn't help looking at him. First of all, I've never seen another turtle before. And second of all, he seemed so very comfortable with saying exactly what he's thinking. Exactly what he's feeling. I couldn't understand him, not at all. And he still scared me, golden eyes framed with that red bandana and rough appearance.

Suddenly, he looked up and I couldn't look away from his glowing eyes. He pointed at me with his knife, swallowing what he had in his mouth.

"Yur new here, right?"

I nodded slowly, not knowing what to say.

"Raphael, you can talk to Donatello later. He just got here and probably just wants to eat his food."

I looked at Carson, grateful that he said something when I couldn't. I looked back at the other turtle, obviously named Raphael. He snarled and turned back to his food. I started eating my own food, but I just kept peeking at him. His eyes were cold as ice and hot as the sun at the same time. Judging from his body he seemed at least twenty years old, but I knew that you could only be at the clinic if you're seventeen or younger. His plastron showed a bit when he leaned forward over the plate, and his arms were…

That's when I noticed the scars.


	2. Chapter 2

For a few seconds, I couldn't move. I just stared at the completely visible scars on his arms, his wrists. They looked deep, even the healed ones, and I could have sworn that some of them looked as if they were just a few hours old.

I suddenly felt as if I was being watched, and then noticed the golden eyes looking at me. I blushed and glued my eyes to my plate, cursing at myself. I had no right to look at him like that! I had no right in the world to sit there and try to figure out what he's going through, or what's happened to him to make him feel like hurting himself.

I focused on finishing my meal and then going to the living room. I sat down at a table and grabbed some paper and a pen, and started doodling just to keep myself busy.

And still I just couldn't resist it. I went through every possible cause in my head. Maybe he lives in an abusive family, or maybe he's being bullied, or maybe he's chronically depressed? Maybe he's been in an accident and just can't get the pictures from it out of his head? Or maybe he's suffering from OCD?

I sighed, sick of myself and my behavior. I was about to get up and go to my room when someone sat down at the other end of the table. I looked up and met a pair of familiar glowing eyes.

"Hey."

I blinked a couple of times.

"H-hi."

The silence.

I looked away from the staring eyes and cleared my throat.

"Uhm, listen, I'm sorry about, uh, you know, before."

He chuckled and I blinked. Now he was laughing at me? I looked down at the table and licked my lips, a blush now covering my cheeks. He made me feel bad about myself and at the same time he made me want to be in his presence. I couldn't figure it out.

"So."

I tensed. He was starting a conversation. I can't even start to explain how much I hate talking, all the small talk that would act as a wall in front of the horrible reality just to trick us all into a fake feeling of security. Maybe I hate it so much because that's all I've been doing for the past four years. Talking. About how I feel, how I should be feeling, how I want to be feeling. The list goes on.

"What're ya here for?"

I felt the buzzing panic inside my head. He wanted to play psychiatrist?

"I'm sorry, but that's none of your business."

I was shaking a little bit, my eyes not wanting to meet his gaze. He straightened his back and crossed his scarred arms over his shirt-covered plastron, and put a smug smile on his lips.

"What if I dun care?"

I looked back at him, offended.

"I don't want to talk about it. Please respect that."

My voice cracked and I cursed myself once again. I was so damn weak, I couldn't even defend myself! I felt like curling up on that chair, hiding my face in my palms. But I didn't move an inch.

"I'd say depression."

I felt something sting and twist inside my stomach, some kind of itchy lump growing in my throat.

"Please, stop it."

My voice kept cracking. My palms were sweating and I felt sick, but I couldn't get up and leave. I just couldn't move.

"And anxiety. Yep, definitely."

I could feel a tear come streaming down my face. I was angry and sad, and this- this Raphael had the guts to sit there and mock me! I tried to think of something that would make him stop, that would make him leave, but couldn't come up with anything. The buzzing in my head grew louder and my lungs seemed to shrink, pushing the air out of my body.

"Well, how- how about you!"

He blinked. I was almost hyperventilating, still looking at the table in front of me, but the fact that I said something to defend myself made the adrenaline rush in my body. My hands were shaking even more than before and I finally faced the surprised gaze from the other turtle.

"What's the story behind those wounds?"

Suddenly I was falling backwards, hitting the floor with the back of the chair under my shell. A hand was holding the collar of my shirt, a pair of fiery eyes staring into mine, a voice low and rumbling.

"Ya dun wanna go there. Got it?"

I opened my mouth to say something, but couldn't make a sound. Raphael was straddling me and gritted his teeth as he made some kind of inhuman growl deep down in his throat.

"Got it!"

He shook me and I closed my eyes, whimpering, too scared to even look at him.

"Raphael! What are you doing! That's enough!"

Carson suddenly appeared behind Raphael, pulling the other turtle off from me. Another guardian helped me to get up on my feet. That's when I noticed that I was crying.

"Come with me, dear. Do you want something to drink?"

I shook my head, trying to breathe normally. Now I could feel how my racing heart almost jumped out of my chest because of its rapid beating, and I made awkward squeaking sounds when I tried to take deep breaths. I felt even more uncomfortable with the situation because of my lack of control over my body. It was as if it felt emotions without me being aware of it, and left me standing there, out of breath and exhausted.

The guardian gently dragged me away from the scene, down the hall and towards the glass encrusted balcony to get some air. I looked back at Carson. He was holding Raphael from behind with their arms locked, and the turtle was staring at me with glowing eyes. But he didn't stare at me with anger or fury, but with some kind of sick, sadistic smile placed on his lips. I tensed and forgot how to breathe.

"Sleep tight, pretty boy. You'll need the rest."

I could barely hear him, but the twisted look on his face told me everything. I somehow felt that no matter what I've been expecting from this place, it'd get much worse. And I had no doubt that this Raphael would be here with me at least until it was my turn to get discharged from this hell.

I turned my head again and followed the guardian through the corridor, but stopped outside my room.

"If it's okay, I'd like to just go to bed now."

I smiled weakly and got a hesitant nod to confirm my wish. I excused myself and entered my room, closing the door behind me. I barely reached my bed when the same guardian opened my door.

"I'm sorry Donatello, but you can't close your door. When you've been here for a while, you'll get certain privileges, but it's too early right now."

I blinked, a bit confused and still upset from the conversation with Raphael. They wouldn't let me close my door?

"O-okay. But… Why can't I close it?"

The guardian smiled and looked at my bruised wrists. I automatically tried to pull my sleeves over my hands to cover myself up and away from her eyes.

"We need to check up on you every half hour to keep you from hurting yourself. If your door is closed, you'll probably wake up every time we open it."

With that, she left the room. I had my mouth open, trying to figure out what just happened. They needed to check up on me in case I decided to hurt myself? Somehow I felt as if I was being harassed, as if I was being violated. They couldn't take that away from me, could they? They couldn't take my hitting and scratching away from me. I wasn't actually cutting or anything, nothing serious. It was a way for me to handle my damn panic attacks and my anxiety. If they took that away from me, then what would I do?

I place my head on the pillow and stared into nothing, waiting for some kind of sleep to take over me.


	3. Chapter 3

I sat down at the table next to Carson, rubbing my face with my hands. I'd barely gotten any sleep that night.

I had opened my eyes and looked at the digital clock in the window. 1:26 am.

I then closed my eyes to go back to sleep, but I just found myself rolling around in the bed while my brain decided to be in some kind of dream-less sleep mode. When I opened my eyes again, it was 2:54 am. And the next time, it was 3:33. And 4:16.

I had sighed when I felt the sheets sticking to my cold, sweaty skin, twisting around my legs and making it hard for me to even get up and out of bed. I didn't remember dreaming anything, just this stomach ache and dizziness that had been bugging me all night. I found my clothes on the floor, somewhere recalling how I, half asleep and still in bed, had made my way out of the fabric late last night.

The plate with salad being pushed my way got me out of my thoughts and back to reality. I grabbed some food and started eating when I noticed that Raph wasn't at the table. At first I thought that maybe he'd gotten out of this place, but then decided that for that to happen, he'd have to stop that cutting. They'd never let anyone out with that habit.

Before I could stop myself, I turned to Carson.

"Where's Raphael?"

Carson finished chewing and swallowed his food before turning to me. I noticed that some of the other people around the table were looking at me. I guessed that no one really asked much about the hothead, and I could see why. He wasn't the nicest person in the world.

"He's out with a friend for dinner tonight. He'll be back later."

I nodded, silently adding "who would want to be friends with that maniac."

We all finished eating, and I sat down in a chair at the table I'd been sitting at the other day when Raph had straddled me. I shook my head, getting rid of the thought. I'd rather not remember that, to be honest. Most of all, I'd like to just not remember that guy at all. He terrified me, and at the same time, I wanted to know more about him. I wanted to get to know him and I wanted to figure out why he was such an ass.

I looked up when someone sat down in front of me, and I met a pair of grey eyes. It was a pretty girl, I had to admit; her brown hair was short and a cute mess, and her face was full of freckles. She smiled and reached for my hand.

"Hi, I'm Sophy."

I took her hand and shook it, glad to finally have found someone that would talk to me without jumping me and having me straddled on the floor. I shivered at the thought, and to my surprise I wasn't able to tell if it was out of fear or pleasure. I wrote a mental note to myself about stop being so socially awkward.

"Donnie."

I returned her smile, and decided that I liked her. She seemed sane enough, and had the decency to introduce herself before asking personal questions.

I sighed. I kept thinking about that Raphael kid. I already knew that I kind of hated him, but still I kept wondering about why he was at a place like this. And I kept wondering about his scars, about his story.

I winced when a door was smacked open and a familiar growl echoed through the corridor. I saw Carson getting up from the couch, jogging over to the source of the noise. I heard him call Raph's name, telling him to calm down. Another guardian made her way over to the entrance and I heard her saying about the same things Carson did. I stared down at the table, not sure what I was supposed to do.

"Hey, it's alright. Don't mind Raph."

I looked up at Sophy.

"He's been out with his ex. It usually ends like this."

I blinked a couple of times. Raph raging obviously wasn't something unusual, judging by her casual way to handle it. I leaned forward.

"But… Why would someone go out with an ex if it makes them so angry?"

I was whispering, not wanting anyone to hear our conversation.

Another bang was heard, along with voices, still trying to calm the hothead down. I couldn't help but tense, clenching my fists. I wasn't used to this kind of drama, not at all. Before I got to this place, I lived with a friend that wasn't much of a drama queen. We shared the same interests – well, some of them – and had the same sense of humor. We had fought like… Three times in total. And that probably was because one of us wanted pizza and the other wanted Chinese food.

Sophy leaned in as well, getting my point about keeping our conversation private. She opened her mouth to answer me when another growl was heard. She rolled her eyes, and paused for a few seconds.

"His ex is like… The only one that cares about him."

I was kind of shocked.

"What about his family?"

She shook her head and I blinked. He didn't have a family? Or, at least not one that cared about him. I suddenly felt bad for the mental comment I had made earlier, the one about how someone would want to be friends with him.

I was about to ask another question when the raging Raph entered the living room and stomped his way through it, heading for the corridor with the bedrooms. He stopped and turned around when he heard at least three people trying to catch up with him. I yelped and was about to stand up when he pushed Carson and almost made him fall backwards, but was then caught off guard when another turtle entered the room. Raph put a finger on the other one's chest and gritted his teeth.

"You've done enough, Leo. Fuck off."

He half growled, half spat the word out, and then turned around and disappeared down the corridor.

I looked at the other turtle, apparently named Leo, and saw him sigh with his head hanging. I felt bad for the guy. Carson put a hand on his shoulder, whispered something and then went after Raph. Another guardian took Leo to the kitchen, saying something about coffee.

I turned towards Sophy again, noticing that she'd been scribbling on a piece of paper the whole time. I got the feeling that these things happened on a regular basis. Still, I found myself shaking, and she obviously noticed. She smiled gently.

"This is gonna sound horrible, but, you'll get used to it."

I chose to just ignore the comment, and leaned backwards to get a glimpse of Leo out in the kitchen. He was dressed in boots and a long, brown-ish coat, his hands now holding a cup of coffee. A black hat was placed on the table in front of him. I couldn't help but wanting to hug him, he looked so incredibly sad.

"Who's that Leo guy?"

I looked at Sophy to get an answer, and she raised an eyebrow. Was I missing something here?

"Leo's the ex."

I opened my mouth to say something, but found myself speechless. I glanced towards the kitchen again, watching the turtle take a sip of his coffee.

Raphael was… gay?


	4. Chapter 4

Once again, we all sat down at the table to get some dinner after an exhausting day of various conversations about medication, self-harm, suicidal thoughts and a million other things. Carson had been right next to me all day, even during my meetings with one of my psychiatrists, to give me support and to calm me down. A doctor had mentioned something about putting me one some kind of medication that would help me handle my everyday life, but I, sobbing, admitted that I was terrified of any medication. I had no idea about how that would affect me, and I was scared to death that it would make me feel even more uncomfortable with myself. They told me that I would feel different and maybe even change my personality, which just made me refuse it even more – I already felt sick to my stomach because of my low self-esteem, why put me through even more insecurity?

I quietly sighed, tired of meetings and this bugging loneliness that came over me every night when Carson left to go home. The only person I actually had spoken to, Sophy, had got to go home just a few days earlier, and I found myself extremely quiet and often sat by myself. I wanted to feel happy for her; that she was feeling better and finally got to go home and just forget the time at this clinic. But I still found myself cursing the fact that she had to go.

It's not that I don't like spending time with other people, but I find it really hard to start at conversation. I'd rather be the one to listen, and let someone else do the talking. I'm a great listener, and that's usually how I make friends. That's probably how I even got to meet my roommate; he talks all the time, and he know it's okay to do so. I don't mind it, in fact, I find it hard to talk about myself or just keep a conversation going myself. I would, for example, never get in touch with someone like me. It would be way too many awkward silences and we both would feel bothered just being in the presence of the other one.

I got brought back to reality when I had the bowl of potatoes pushed towards me. I nodded a thanks to whoever it was that passed them on, and started filling up my plate. Carson wasn't there, since he had to go and do some paperwork, but I still saw some familiar faces. I guess I would make it through that dinner without an anxiety attack as well.

Some of the kids around the table were talking to each other, but it still was pretty quiet around dinner time - everyone felt exhausted and probably just wanted to call it a night. That's the only reason I accidently heard a nurse talking to a mutant mouse girl. She was almost whispering, trying to keep it down, but it was hard not to eavesdrop when we all could hear them clearly.

"Heather, you have to eat. I know it's hard, but you have to."

I noticed that all the other kids were either staring at their plates or talking to each other, no one really showing that they were listening to what was happening at the corner of the big table. Everyone seemed to avoid the situation.

Everyone except Raphael.

He was still eating, but he was looking – almost staring – at the mouse girl and practically sending death glares to the nurse sitting beside her. I wasn't sure, but I thought I saw the girl looking back at Raphael with a struggling glance for just a mere second.

"Heather, are you listening? You have to eat."

The room suddenly felt very small and tense, like the calm before a storm. I was guessing that this Heather-girl was struggling with some kind of eating disorder, and I felt bad for her. Why did the nurse have to push her into eating in a room full of people, and on top of that; why did the nurse keep telling her that she had to do it? Carson would never leave me alone in a room full of psychiatrists and doctors that were trying to put me on medication. I had the feeling that it would be similar to the anxiety the mouse girl had to be experiencing right at that moment.

"At least eat the bread. I'll just put some butter on it. You can do that, right?"

I looked at Raphael. He was gritting his teeth, holding back a growl by the looks of it. I then glanced towards Heather, and I saw her hanging her head and clenching her fists. Her arms were very thin, and the fur almost looked dirty because of the dried – blood? Was she a cutter as well?

"No, I can't."

I almost thought that the windows would break because of her tone. It was filled with frustration, anger and a bit of guilt, sadness even, and it pierced the thick air. Her voice was pretty dark; I had expected a much higher pitched voice simply because she was so tiny, but it kind of suited her.

I didn't have time to think much more before she stood up, her chair falling backwards in the action, and she stormed off through the corridor outside the dining room. None of the other kids reacted, except for Raphael. He stood up only a second after Heather had left the room, and completely ignored the protests of the nurse and some other employee. I swallowed hard and looked at the grown-ups in the room, but they were whispering to each other and shaking their heads. One of them went out in the corridor, probably to check up on them, but the other ones just returned to their seats and kept on eating. I heard the front door opening and closing two times, letting the mutants out of the clinic.

I couldn't help but wonder what kind of relationship Heather and Raphael had.

It had been at least an hour since the two of them stormed off, and I somehow felt too afraid to ask someone about it. I mean, it was probably pretty personal, and nothing they would just tell anyone who asked. So, I decided to do approach it from a different angle.

I walked up to Carson, who was now done with his paper work and was eating dinner in the kitchen.

"Hey, Carson…"

He looked up at me, smiled and swallowed what he had in his mouth.

"Hi, Donatello. How are you feeling? I heard that Heather got pretty upset before."

I nodded and shrugged at the same time.

"I'm just fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

Carson shrugged and dried his mouth with a napkin.

"Sometimes, seeing another person having a rough time can affect other people."

I nodded and 'ah'-ed. I guess that kind of made sense. I was glad that I didn't seem to get triggered by that stuff. In fact, I didn't really feel stuff when around people. It's usually when I ended up alone that the panic attacks came to visit, since I didn't have something else to occupy my mind with.

I cleared my throat.

"It's been a long day, though, and I was wondering if maybe I could take a walk? Just, you know, outside the building."

I knew Carson trusted me, but it was possible that I was pushing it.

"Well," he dug around in his pocket for something. "We usually won't let you out when you've been here for such a short time, but if you're back in twenty minutes, I think it would be fine."

I was surprised that my plan had worked, and didn't want to stay long enough for Carson to change his mind. I bit my tongue when he put a hand on my shoulder before I could turn away.

"Just bring this. Push the button if something happens, and someone will be there within the minute. Okay?"

He put some kind of device in my hand, and I nodded. It was black with a grey button on it, and two lamps that were glowing in red and green. My guessing was that they were tracking me. I could live with that this time, though.

I got my shoes and jacket from the locked locker room and went out through the front door. It was chilly outside, but not enough for me to change my mind and go back inside. I wanted to see were Heather and Raphael had gone.

Since the area was rather small and surrounded my huge fences, I decided to start walking around the building, just as I had told Carson. I pulled my jacket closer around myself and put my hands under my armpits to keep them warm and hidden from the wind. It didn't take long before I heard voices, and indeed, I found two silhouettes just around the corner. I didn't really want them to see me, afraid that Raphael might get pissed and bring me to the ground or something, so I kept still and patiently waited for them to keep talking.

They sat silent for a minute or so, and Raphael was smoking. I didn't even know that one was allowed to smoke while living here, but apparently, he did it anyway. He held out the cigarette package towards Heather and she accepted one. They sat silent for a while longer, smoking their cigarettes, and I was just about to give up and go inside when she spoke up.

"It's just one of those days."

"Yea, I know. I've had those."

"You're saying you're not having them anymore?"

Raphael snickered.

"Oh I have 'em. Jus' not as often."

Heather took a smoke of her cigarette before speaking up again.

"When's the last time you had a bad day?"

"My whole life is a bad day."

I got the feeling that Heather was rolling her eyes, and she lightly punched him on his upper arm. I thought I saw her smile there for a second. How's that something to smile about? I didn't get them. They didn't seem bothered at all when they were talking about that kind of stuff. I could barely talk about it and breathe at the same time. It didn't make any sense.

"You know what I mean."

I ignored my thoughts and kept eavesdropping.

"Yea yea. Last week, I think."

"What happened?"

I found myself leaning a bit closer. I really wanted to hear this part, for some reason.

"Ya know that new guy? Don or something?"

Heather nodded. I held my breath.

"I think his name's Donatello."

Why were they talking about me?

"Yea, whatever,"

Exactly, whatever! Don't talk about me. Don't mind me. Please, just let me be invisible.

"I talked to him last week."

"Oh? And?"

Please just talk about something else. Please don't know that I exist.

"An' I was messin' around, ya know? Jus' feelin' him in a little."

Heather nodded. I still held my breath.

"An' then, he asked me 'bout my arms."

The mouse girl suddenly snorted before chuckling to herself. She took a smoke and was shaking her head, still smiling.

"Poor guy. What did you do to him?"

I closed my eyes, but just found the pictures of Raphael straddling me flashing by in front of me. Dammit, why does he even remember that? I had just about forgotten it!

"I dunno. Jumped him."

"Okay. And why did that give you a bad day?"

Raph grinned and glanced at Heather.

"What are you, my shrink?"

She shrugged and kept smoking her cigarette. Raphael sighed and covered his face with his palms before rubbing his forehead.

"I dunno. He gets to me."

Heather smiled and raised an eyebrow, and my heart skipped a beat.

"He gets to you?"

It was Raphael's turn to lightly punch Heather on the shoulder. She almost tipped over since she was so tiny, but still seemed used to the classic buddy punch.

"Dun ask me, I'm just as confused."

Why the hell is my heart beating like crazy? This isn't something to be happy about!

Heather chuckled.

"Oooh, the mighty Raphael is confused."

He grinned again and pretended to punch her in the back of her head.

"Happens to the best."

I was thinking about pushing that button Carson had given me, but settled with almost running back to the entrance and going inside before I got a stroke or something.


End file.
